


The Wearin’ O’ the Green

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I always try to do a little something for St. Paddy’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wearin’ O’ the Green

“You are absolutely diabolical, you know that, don’t you?” Daniel slipped nimbly into the back seat of Sam’s car. “Evening, Teal’c.”

“It is indeed a good evening, Daniel Jackson. Major Carter prefers to think of herself as devious.”

“Well, whatever, Jack called me in a rare mood so instead of him meeting us at the restaurant, he wants us to come to his house and see what some ‘hooligans’,” Daniel quirked his fingers in the air, “have done to his yard.”

Sam suppressed a smirk. “I wonder what he’s talking about.”

Teal’c gazed out the window with an expression of supreme placidity. “I am sure I am unable to speculate about O’Neill’s distress.”

They completed the trip to their commanding officer’s home without conversation.

*

“Oh, my,” Sam murmured as she slipped the car into park and set the emergency brake. Daniel tumbled out of the back, fumbling for his phone.

“Oh, I have to get a picture of this.” He crowed as he brought up the camera function. Not satisfied with just still shots, he switched over to video and walked slowly around Jack’s front yard.

“You see! You see what I mean?” Jack snapped as he launched himself off the back bumper of his truck.

“Sir,” Sam sputtered, “what happened?”

“All I know is when I got home this afternoon, this is what I found!” He waved his hand toward his very green yard. Green because it was covered with hundreds of green plastic flamingos. He glared at a chuckling Daniel.

“O’Neill, you have had sufficient time to remove these from your yard. Why have you not done so?”

“I didn’t see it this morning. And because one of the neighbors called the local news and they begged me not to until after they filmed it. They said it’s already all over Face book.” Courtesy of one of the neighborhood kids who was lucky enough to be home sick and saw an opportunity for his allotted fifteen minutes of fame.

“This,” Sam faltered. “This must have taken someone an incredible amount of time. Hours and hours. Are you sure you have no idea?”

“Oh, I’m killing Ferretti first thing in the morning, I promise you that! Yesterday, he was making Irish jokes and now just look at my yard!”

“It does appear to be the type of amusement that Marines enjoy.” Teal’c speculated.

“All of SG-3! I’m killing every last one of them!”

“I fear that General Hammond would object to that action, O’Neill.”

“Every one of them,” Jack mumbled as a van, emblazoned with the local news logo, slid to a stop behind Sam’s car.

*

Jack was, fortunately, mellowed by a good meal, some Irish whiskey and by the television station’s offer to pick up the tab for flamingo removal.

Ferretti, when accused via cell phone, vehemently denied any knowledge of the great flamingo flood although he admitted to his wife that he wished he’d thought of it and he’d like to shake the hands of whoever had.

The perpetrators were never apprehended and the case remains open to this day.


End file.
